


Capsized

by xbrokendollzx



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bard is purposely being a pest, Bard's band mates ship it, Drug use at some point, Entrepreneur!Thranduil, Eventual Romance, Every tenant in the building is caught in the crossfire of their budding romance, Humor, M/M, Rock N' Roll theme, Rockstar!Bard, Sexual Tension, Snark, They do NOT approve, Thranduil lets loose and gets high, Thranduil wants to throttle him, Verbal Snipes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-07 13:52:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5458823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xbrokendollzx/pseuds/xbrokendollzx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil is not sure if he wants to strangle him, fuck him, or find a new place to live.</p><p>Perhaps all three.</p><p>The Rock star AU you probably didn't want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Shook Me, When You Took Me.

**Author's Note:**

> And we're off to the races! No beta, bear with me.
> 
> Lyrics used in this chapter are to AC/DC's "You Shook Me All Night Long," which I do not own at all.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil is fed up with Bard's antics.
> 
> Bard has no idea how Thranduil makes scowling look so damned hot.

_“She was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean, she was the best damn woman that I ever seen…”_

Thranduil rolled over in his bed, slamming a pillow over his head to muffle the sound of the loud, offensive racket coming from above his head. The disruption of his sleep might have been nothing new as it had been occurring nearly every damned night since that fucking Bard Bowman and his troupe of maniacs moved into his apartment building, but that did not mean that he wasn’t absolutely sick of it. 

_“She had sightless eyes, tellin’ me no lies, knockin’ me out with those American Thighs…”_

Thranduil groaned as the sound of feet pounding against the floors echoed throughout his room, flinging the pillow at the wall in frustration. Those cheap liquor fueled idiots upstairs were singing along to the trash now, as if it needed to be any more tasteless, and he was about ready to lose his mind.

_“Takin’ more than her share, had me fightin’ for air, she told me to come but I was already there…”_

Why did the manager of the building tolerate him? _Why?_ The residents were more than incensed by his behavior and had already begun a petition against him. After the incident where Bowman had apparently taken a bullhorn and told said residents _exactly_ where they could shove their petition when they gathered outside of his window, Thranduil was almost sure he was gone. He was more than willing to pay triple the price in order to buy that imbecile upstairs out, and send him packing once and for all.

_“Cause the walls were shaking, the earth was quaking, my mind was aching, and we were makin’ it!”_

3567 Mirkwood was an elegant building stationed in one of the most quiet, decent and financially stable neighborhoods in the city. It was home to many entrepreneurs like himself, heiresses, and those in the Medical and Law fields. Intelligent, decent people that Thranduil found he rather...liked. They were easy to converse with on a whim, and tended to stay out of one another’s way because making friends outside of business was just much too tedious for a working professional. Business connections were forged, however, which made living in the building quite beneficial for the residents. It was a constant game of _Quid Pro Quo._

_“And you, shook me all night long, yeah you, shook me all night long.”_

Enter Bard Bowman. A debaucherous musician (if he even dared to call himself that) who had somehow found his way to the top of the building’s closed waiting list, claiming 3C for himself and his band mates (pets). As far as Thranduil knew it was a beautiful modern 4 bedroom apartment with a spacious den and a gorgeous view that overlooked the skyline.

Thranduil scoffed. There was no telling what it looked like now. Probably reminiscent of a post apocalyptic planet. Bowman. With his parties, and his groupie fame whores, and his bloody-

Thranduil’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud crash upstairs that caused him to sit up straight in his bed, clutching his fine silken sheets in his fists tightly. There was a moment of silence before a loud cheer erupted and the music resumed.

_“Bowman, Bowman, Bowman,”_

_That. was. it._

Thranduil ripped the sheets from his body and slid from his bed, stomping over to his wardrobe irritably. He was going up there to give those bastards a piece of his mind once and for all.  
*** 

“Oi, Bowman! Your pretty little Girlfriend’s here for the party! Finally pulled his little silk thong out of his crack, did he?”

Bard looked up from where he sat, laughing along with an equally drunk and scantily clad woman plopped in his lap, craning his neck to see where the person was calling him from past the crowd of people blocking his door. 

“Who?”

“You’ve got a fuckin’ Bird, Bard?” The Girl slurred, glancing at the door and then back at him accusingly.

Bard kissed the Girl’s cheek and handed her his beer, shifting her into his chair when he stood to see what was going on at the door. “Relax Love, and hold that for me. I’ll be right back with you in a moment.” 

Of course he wouldn’t be. But she didn’t need to know that.

Swiping another beer from a random person as he gently pushed through the crowd, and another from his shit faced band mate for his “girlfriend” (just in case, one never knew) he made his way toward where his Drummer leant at the door with a smirk plastered on his face. 

“Who is it?” Bard took a sip of his beer and shoved Daniel when he began to chuckle.

“Take a look see for yourself.”

Bard raised an eyebrow and lowered an eye to the peep hole.

The hot headed debonair hottie from downstairs, Thranduil Opherion, stood on the other side of the door draped in one of those ridiculously overpriced, poncy little robes. Looked absolutely pissed too. This was going to be fun. 

“What a treat.” Bard pulled back with a drunken chuckle, shooting his friend a wink before motioning for him to get out of the way. With a flourish, he threw open the door with the biggest grin and spread his arms wide. 

“Baby Cakes!”

Less than amused, Thranduil’s eyes flitted over the going ons of his apartment over his shoulder momentarily, before settling back on him. The snooty man took in his sweaty, fitted Motley Crue shirt and fitted leather pants with obvious distaste. 

And...a little something else if he wasn’t just seeing things.

“I will tell you once, and only once. So listen well.” His voice shook with silent fury.

Bard raised his eyebrows, leaning in a little. “M’listening.”

“I have been up for nearly four days straight due to your...gatherings. And I warn you that I am quite volatile at the moment due to my lack of sleep."

Bard pouted. “Sorry to hear that, Love.” He held out the beer. “This should help-” Thranduil promptly smacked it from his hand. Bard yanked it back with a grin, lifting the hand to lick some of the beer that had spilled from his fingers. “Feisty.”

“ _Quiet_ , you complete imbecile!” Thranduil growled. Bard’s band mates, who had gathered behind him to watch the scene let out a loud “ooooh” at that one. Bard glanced back at them bemusedly and then turned his attention back to Thranduil.

Bard held his hands up. “Sorry-” 

“I said, quiet!” Thranduil jabbed a finger into Bard’s chest. “You will turn your “music” off at a reasonable hour, and when it is on, you will play it so that only you and the rest of these fools have to suffer hearing it. If I hear one more peep out of this apartment you will be seeing me again…” He took a step forward. “And believe me Mr. Bowman, you will very much rue that day.” 

The apartment went silent, everyone obviously stunned by Thranduil’s outburst. Until, 

“What if it’s night time, though? Will I rue the night?” 

Thranduil rolled his eyes in complete disgust. “Good night, Mr. Bowman. Do keep what I said in mind.” With that, he turned on his heel,and started back down the hallway. 

“Hold on a sec…” Bard stepped out of the apartment, ignoring the put out shouts as he shut the door behind him. 

Thranduil turned. _“What?_

“Uh,” Bard gave him a lopsided smile, pulling a card from his back pocket. “In case you have any more complaints.” 

Giving him another unimpressed once over, Thranduil snatched the card from him. He held it up to read. 

_“Bard Bowman, Sex deity, Rock God, Face Melter Extraordinaire.”_ He snorted. “Charming.” And took off. 

Bard watched him go with a grin. Hot Headed Hottie, indeed. 


	2. Sad But True.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tiff, presumptions, and a friendly wager.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to come next week, but I was able to bust it out overnight. Before we get started, a couple things! Past situations are beneath the dates and italics. Text messages are indicated by Thranduil and Bard's bolded initials, followed by the text in italics. The song used in this chapter is Metallica's "Sad But True," which I do not have any claim over. And once again? no beta. Corrections will be made as I go. Hope you enjoy!

Thursday marked a week since his encounter with Bard at his apartment, and Thranduil had been doing everything Humanly possible to avoid him. He didn’t exactly know why he was using up precious energy for such efforts-and don’t be ridiculous, he was not hiding from Bowman, he was here first.

Given the fact that he’d bumped into him twice this week began, he figured that the universe was playing a very infuriating and sick joke on him. That, or he wasn’t doing a very good job.

The first time was at the Mailboxes downstairs on Monday. He was sifting through the small pile of letters from business associates and bills, separating them in order of importance when a hand clad in finger less black leather waved an envelope under his nose. He looked up to see the idiot standing before him, with that same, stupid and now familiar grin plastered on his face. 

_Monday, October 5th_

_“Dropped this.”_

_Thranduil snatched it from him and placed it in the back of the pile. “Thank you.”_

_“Anything good?” Bard asked him, rolling up his newly acquired copy of “Rebel Ink Magazine” so that he could shove it into the pocket of his dark green cargo pants. He was sporting a sleeveless “Black Sabbath” shirt today, showcasing the tattoos that littered his arms in a palette of intricate designs and colors._

_Thranduil cursed himself for having such an obsession with detail._

_“No.” He replied shortly._

_Bard shrugged, beginning to rock back and forth on his feet. “Yeah, I figured. Looks like a lot to deal with.”_

_Thranduil lifted his head slightly to peer at him from over his reading glasses. Was he actually attempting to start a conversation with him? “Does it?”_

_“Must be.”_

_Thranduil gave him the side eye. That question did not require an answer._

_“Assumptions are dangerous.”_

_“I’ve been in more dangerous situations.” Bard leaned against the mailboxes, crossing one ankle over the other._

_Thranduil tilted his head slightly. “Then you should know that there are many that you may not be crafty enough to wriggle out of, should you ever find yourself trapped.” He shoved the letters into the inside pocket of his Burberry Pea Coat, reaching up to unwrap his scarf as he headed for the elevator. “Have a Good Evening, Mr. Bowman. Remember to keep it down.”_

_“Later, Princess.”_

The next time was at his favorite Coffee Shop of all places. It was a short distance from his Home, a local favorite that offered tasteful brews at good prices. He often went there on his Evenings off to enjoy the quiet atmosphere. It gave him time to be one with his thoughts, to indulge in a good novel over a cup of Coffee.

That was, until he found his peace shattered when he looked up from his copy of “Candide” to see a sweaty looking Rockstar occupying the once empty seat at his table. He nearly startled the daylights out of him. Bowman sat back in the chair as if he belonged there, sipping at an iced coffee. It looked to be black sweatpants and an “Iron Maiden” shirt that day, with his unruly hair pulled into a messy bun. He swiped at the stray strands that curled over his eye every now and then, only to have them fall right back into place. 

It made Thranduil uncomfortable that he found him aesthetically pleasing. And that he wanted to tuck those strands of hair behind his ear so that he could quit his fidgeting.

What had he been doing there? Had he resorted to stalking?

_Wednesday, October 7th_

_“Can I help you?” When Bard didn’t answer him, Thranduil cleared his throat._

_Bard looked up at him as if he was noticing him for the first time. The nerve. “Huh?”_

_“What,” Thranduil shut his book. “Are you doing here?”_

_Bard gestured to Thranduil’s long forgotten Latte. “Same as you. That’s what this place is here for, yeah?”  
Thranduil, for the life of him, could not argue with that fact. So he opted to simply ignore Bard, picking his book back up. Where had he left off-_

_“You know how to read that stuff?”_

_Thranduil raised his eyebrows. Bard nodded to the book._

_“I was asking if you knew how to read it.”_

_Thranduil smiled dryly. “If I did not know to read this novel why, pray tell, would I be sitting here with it?”_

_Bard shrugged. “Because you’re pretentious.”_

_Oh. Oh._

_Thranduil stiffened. “And you are Pompous. Uncultured.”_

_“Pompous?” Bard swirled his straw around in his drink. “Woah. What’s that saying about the uh, Pot and Kettle?”_

_“You disgust me.”_

_“You’re only upset because I refuse to lay down and take your bullshit,” Bard leaned in, eyes boring into his. “And that you’re too embarrassed to admit your attraction to me. That’s why you’ve settled with being a frozen over Harpie instead.”_

_“Dare to dream,” Thranduil bit out. “You will never be able to measure up to my standards in any manner. You are a 35 year old Man Child who has not yet learned that everything in life isn’t fun and games. It’s quite pathetic.”_

_“You seem upset.” Bard deadpanned, well aware of the fact that he was probably winding up one of the most influential pricks to ever cross the threshold to Mirkwood. He could care less about Mr. Warbucks and his shitty attitude, but if he thought that he was going to “jump” on command he had another thing coming._

_If he didn’t want to pull hat silver spoon of his mouth, Bard would shove it down his throat._

_Thranduil let out a mirthless laugh, lips curling up into one of those cold half smirks he undoubtedly reserved for those he felt were inferior to him. “I suppose you don’t lack intellect after all. You were smart enough to refrain from breeding, saving the world from having to deal with yet another blight on the mirror of humanity.”_

_Thranduil lifted his chin when Bard seemed to shrink back, expression unreadable. That certainly did well to shut his mouth. “Nice to know I’m not the only honest one around here.” Bard replied quietly._

_Thranduil stood abruptly, tucking his book beneath his arm. “Au Revoir.”_

_Bard gave a mock salute. “Bonne journée.”_

_“I'm your dream, make you real, I'm your eyes when you must steal, I'm your pain when you can't feel, Sad but true...”_

Thranduil couldn’t help but notice that since their heated dispute yesterday, the music upstairs had gotten much more aggressive. Much more...morbid. He looked up at the ceiling from where he lounged on the couch in his den, weighing his options. If he went up there to confront Bard he would have to come into contact with him, which was certainly more than he could handle at the moment.

_“I'm your dream, mind astray, I'm your eyes while you're away, I'm your pain while you repay, You know it's sad but true...”_

He reached for the side table behind him, feeling around blindly for a moment for the silly business card he discarded on it. Once it was retrieved he considered it for a moment, reaching down to dig his phone out of the couch cushions. He did not care if Bowman’s “lady of the night” had rebuffed him, or that someone keyed his car, or about whatever had him holed up in that apartment with that depressing music. He would not be kept up over it.

 **TO:** _I do believe that the volume of your sound system is out of control, again._

Thranduil only had to wait for a split second before his phone was buzzing in his hand.

**BB:** _Easter Bunny? Is tht u?_

Had he decided to take the trip upstairs, Thranduil was sure that he would have probably throttled Bard at this point.

 **TO:** _I will go ahead and assume that you are too intoxicated to realize that you are still on planet earth._

 **TO:** _It also seems that you have forgotten your Linguistic skills._

**BB:** _Peasants dnt hve linguistics skills, Your Highness._

**BB:** _Wrnt u the one tht said presumptions are dangerous?_

Touche.

**TO:** _Turn it down, Bowman._

**BB:** _Bet u wldnt be saying tht if it was Chopin._

**BB:** _Wanna hear some?_

Thranduil kicked a pillow off of the couch. 

**TO:** _I will be filling out a Residential Noise Complaint Form in the morrow._

**BB:** _Tell Officer Patterson tht I’ll sign his tits the next time I see him._

**TO:** _You can tell him yourself. Don’t fret, you will be able to speak your mind very soon._

Fifteen minutes passed before his phone vibrated again, startling him just as he had begun to doze off. 

**BB:** _Wager?_

What was he on about now? 

**TO:** _Pardon?_

**BB:** _You’re a businessman. Let's make a deal._

**TO:** _Terms._

BB: _Come to my show on Saturday night._

**TO:** _Out of the question._

**BB:** _If you have a good time, you’ll have to join me for a drink._

Thranduil gave it a moment's thought before he sent his next response. 

**TO:** _And if I find it repulsive?_

**BB:** _Then I’ll move._

This was too good of a deal to pass up. He would have his peace by the end of next week, and Bowman would be out of his life for good. 

**TO:** _I accept your offer._

**BB:** _Knew you would. Txt you the dtls tmm. Peasant wear only._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For whomever is wondering, the scathing comment Thranduil made about Bard's lack of...ahem, "production" certainly did hit below the belt. 
> 
> There will be future mentions of Bard's children and the story behind why they aren't with him soon.
> 
> Also, I would like to present a little bit of character development to all of you. Bard's stage presence ad vocal style will be largely based on Glenn Danzig of Danzig. To get yourself a little pumped, and to be able to visualize what Bard will be like onstage please view little bits and peices of this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m19xh3tuLcI 13:00 especially.


	3. Heart Of Glass (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard has something to prove. 
> 
> Thranduil is uncomfortable with the fact that he is comfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very, very early. No beta, bear with me as per. This chapter got very long, so I had to split it into two parts. Credit for the title in this chapter goes to Blondie for their song, "Heart Of Glass." No

"Mr. Opherion?" Haldir sounded almost shaken when they pulled up to the address that Thranduil gave him, turning to look at his boss for confirmation.

Thranduil looked up from his book. "Yes?"

"I...I do not think you have the correct address. Perhaps I should run it through the GPS again?"

Thranduil looked out of the window through his smoky Aviator Shades.

The place was absolutely tasteless by his standards, but he had expected nothing less. Laketown was a Popular concert venue with a reputation of catering to sketchy individuals. The City’s police force raided it multiple times in an attempt to get the place closed down, but the owner was much too slippery to let that happen. He never seemed to know anything about anything, and he saw absolutely nothing. That is what kept him in business. Thranduil rather admired his loyalty to those that he catered to.

People were already queued up for the show, a sea of black and silver that wound around the back of the building. Some chattered with their friends in excitement, whilst others took the opportunity to move to some of the darker corners...for various reasons. 

Thranduil looked down at his own outfit, consisting of a silken white shirt and a pair of Faux Leather Saint Lauren Trousers, complete with a black sheer Ferragamo scarf. He also had the foresight to lightly tease his hair, finding that the unkempt look would go over well for this particular event.

He was sure that the whole building had convinced themselves and each other that he was now on some kind of drug. Quite a few did a double take when he breezed past them on his way out earlier that evening. He nearly chuckled at the thought of them calling a meeting to discuss such a mundane thing.

"No," He clicked the button to release his seat belt, reaching over the push the car door open. "This is it."

"I will wait here until your excursion is over, if you would like?" Haldir offered, not too fond of leaving his boss by his lonesome in such a place.

Thranduil gave his driver a genuine smile. Haldir would be concerned about his best interests until the day that he died. 

“I couldn't trouble you further. Go home and rest. I will retrieve a cab."

"Mr.-"

"I am sure your wife will be pleased to know that you will be home both tonight, and tomorrow. Paid, of course."

Haldir gave the place a final glance before nodding reluctantly. "Alright...please call if you need anything.”

“Goodnight Haldir.” Thranduil stepped out of the Luxury vehicle and shut the door firmly, stepping away from the curb to watch him pull off. 

Thranduil could pretend that he was appalled by this scene, but the truth was that it was no different from how his own had once been in his younger years. The people he no longer associated with back in his last place of residence also did their own share of cocktails and designer drugs. They simply had enough money to make it look glamorous. When it was all over in the morning they would pray for forgiveness, so that they could return to berating everyone else for their faults. 

They would never feel like the addicts they truly were. They were too self righteous.

There was little group of twenty somethings crowding one another by the dumpster, heads bent in concentration. Shifting a little, Thranduil caught a glimpse of a redheaded girl in a leather micro mini holding up a small metallic disk so that each could take a neat line of a powdered substance from the surface. 

He smiled ruefully. People were certainly more open about who they were in these parts. And completely unashamed, at that.

When he approached the guard at the front door, the large man spared him a glance. "Doors don't open 'till Eleven. S’when the show starts." He said gruffly, tilting his head to observe some sort of small scuffle that was going on behind him.

Apparently it was nothing to worry about because he hadn't moved one inch.

“I am here to see Bard Bowman.” Thranduil replied smoothly.

The guard snorted and jerked a thumb in the direction of the line. “Yeah, so are they. Why don’t you go on over and wait with ‘em, sweet cheeks? You got fifteen minutes. Maybe you can make a friend.”

Thranduil’s back straightened slightly, mouth tightening into an agitated line. It didn’t matter what scene he was in, he was always good with handling people. Communication was what his career was built on. When he spoke, he did it with an air of authority that demanded respect. Expected immediate comprehension. Talking his way into the shady night club would be no great task.

He slipped his hand into the back pocket of his pants, pulling out a laminated pass Bard slipped under his door a day back with instructions to show it if he had any problems going in. “I find that I am not very social these days.” He held it up for the guard to see. 

The guard snorted. “Not with that attitude-”

“Alright, Keiser quit givin’ the man the second degree. This one’s with Bowman, he’s got a pass.” A thin, bald man with gauged ears called from the threshold of the open club door. He had an accent very similar to Bard’s. “When he told me to keep an eye out for a leggy blond I wasn’t expecting all this...but hey,” He held his hands up. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with swingin’ a lil’ to the to the left once in awhile.” He took a few steps over and offered Thranduil a smile. “Name’s Eddie,” He held out a hand.

Thranduil shook it strongly, inclining his head slightly. “Thranduil. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, look at you. So Bowman’s goin’ for models now, huh? Guess he finally decided to take my advice and ditch those whores he digs up outta the dive bars.”

Thranduil couldn’t help but smirk at that. “Bowman and I are merely acquaintances. But it is news to me that he can place his ego aside long enough to take advice from other. His lack of taste in women, however, is no surprise. I’ve witnessed his...weekly line up. Monday is rather loud and makes it a point to let the entire building know that Mr. Bowman is well endowed every time she visits.”

Eddie let out a loud boisterous laugh, clapping Keiser on the shoulder. “This one’s a firecracker! And he’s a fuckin’ smart ass, too. Bet he’ll make an honest man out of that asshole. Keep him out of the papers. Bowman needs a good kick in the ass.”

Keiser nodded, taking a pull off of the cigarette one of the other guards passed him. “Have him sippin’ tea and dinin’ with the Queen in no time.” 

“No doubt. Alright Blondie, Lets get you inside before these idiots out here start thinkin’ they’ve got a chance.” Eddie joked, turning to head back into the club.

“You have been conversing with Bowman's pets lately, it seems.” Thranduil followed behind closely. 

“What makes ya say that?”

“They are the ones who are responsible for that nickname. I’ve begun to think that I was not given a proper birth name.”

“The boys really dig you, ya know.” Eddie informed him. “Your nickname? It’s after the band “Blondie.” Good band, good songs. Give ‘em a listen, I think it would suit ya.”

Sam flanked him with a protective arm looped through his as they navigated around the VIP crowd and through a black side door that lead backstage. The long hallway he lead him down bustled with activity. Heavily tattooed musicians fresh from the stage lounged against the walls with beers in their hands and lit cigarettes between their fingers, sweat soaking their thin t-shirts. Some had opted to take them off preferring to beat the heat topless. Two of the men horsed around, one laughing loudly as he hopped on the other’s back landing fake punches.

Heavy doors slammed open and closed as instrument filled cases were carried in and out of the rooms, Staff members rolled amplifiers up and down the halls. Whilst they were passing by a group of ladies (an all girl metal act from New Jersey called “Diabolika,” Eddie supplied helpfully) one of the girls (“Crys” Eddie supplied once more) stopped Thranduil with a hand to his chest 

“So You’re Bowman’s new Boyfriend.” She rolled her shoulders back, arching a jet black eyebrow at him. “Man, he wasn’t kidding. Anyone ever tell you that you’re unfairly hot?”

“I find that I am much too busy for a, "Boyfriend." Whatever Bowman told you, it is merely a figment of his drug addled imagination." Thranduil tilted his head, peering down at the girl with a wry smile on his lips. "And I am reminded of what I look like on a daily basis, yes.”

"That's what they all say." She flipped open her pack of cigarettes, holding it up to him. “He did good this time, hope he doesn't screw it up too bad. Keep the whores away from him, ‘kay?”

Thranduil held up a hand in refusal and she shrugged passing the pack back to her Drummer, a slight woman with spiky bleach blond hair ("Nix") who received it happily. “I will do my best.”

After a right turn they finally got to where Bard had apparently requested he be placed, just past where a thick black curtain separating the hallway and a small section of the stage that allowed VIP’s, Record company scouts, and Tour managers to get as close to the performers as one could without actually being out in the performance space.

“Here we are. Best seat in the house,” Sam took a look at his watch then slid a hand into his back pocket, cursing when he didn’t find what he was looking for. He proceeded to pat down his coat pockets in search of the illusive object. “The boys should be here any second now. You need anything before I take off, Blondie?”

Right then the doors to the Venue slammed open and the crowed flooded in. A mass of fans shoved at one other as they rushed forward, letting out excited screams when their hands slammed against the tops of the metal barriers in the very front. 

Thranduil shook his head. “No, you have been very helpful Edward. Thank you.” 

“Edward, huh? You don’t make it sound too bad so I’ll let you get away with it.” Eddie pressed a pair of earplugs into his hand. “They’re called EARrasers. M1’s. Pop those in so your ears don’t bleed. Enjoy the show, Your Highness.” He gave him a short nod, then turned to make his way back to the front where he was needed.

“He’s not your type, Garland.”

“Apparently he ain’t yours either, Bowman.”

Bard, followed by the rest of his band came walking down the hall on their way to the stage, each giving Eddie a half hug as they passed.

“No way, Blondie?”

“Oi, Blondie! Ready to fuckin’ _rock?”_

“I told you he’d show! Fuck you Ben, you owe me fifty bucks-”

“-Oh piss _off, Danny boy-”_

“- _FIFTY,_ you cheap bastard-”

“-Dunno what _you’re_ over there snickerin’ about Bowman-”

“-Cause he’s gonna get rich off of your stupid ass too-”

Bard looked him up and down appreciatively. “Well, look at you. You clean up well.”

“I wish I could say the same about you.” Thranduil replied, reaching up to tuck a tendril of his hair behind his ear. 

“Well, that wasn’t very nice.” Bard scolded, reaching to take the fifty dollar bill his put out Guitarist thrust in his face. “Ben here thought you wouldn’t show, you just made us all fifty bucks richer. Thanks, Princess.”

“I’ll have a drink on you, Blondie!”

Thranduil was almost startled at how comfortable he had begun to feel in this particular environment. No, this would not do. He needed Bowman out. “Gambling. I’d expect nothing less from you lot.”

“Good. We don’t have to worry about livin’ up to any of those silver spoon standards,” Bard jabbed back. “Speaking of gambling...what will you be having tonight for that drink? White wine spritzer?”

Thranduil fought the urge to roll his eyes. The man truly thought he was the Cock of the walk. “I’m happy you asked, actually.” He hummed thoughtfully. “I’ll be having you, giving the Landlord your two weeks notice.”

“Oh ho!” Bard sniggered. “Someone’s got a mouth on him tonight.”

“I’ve also got the number to a quality moving company. Be sure to pack your things properly.” He gestured to the stage. “No need to keep your audience waiting. The faster you go out there and _flop,_ the faster you’ll be out of my hair for good.”

Bard leaned in. “Kiss for good luck?” He asked slyly.

Thranduil snorted, evading him with a step to the side. “I do not believe in luck. If that is what you feel that you will need to get through this “concert” of yours, then perhaps you should cut your losses and start looking for a new place to live.”

“Feisty. You can tell me all about who broke that heart of yours, and made you such a frozen over bastard in about two hours at the bar. C’mon, boys.” Bard pressed a kiss to his cheek, jetting off before he could protest. Thranduil reached up to wipe his cheek in disgust.

Insufferable. 

The lights dimmed and the crowd erupted, growing increasingly loud as each band mate strutted past him onto the stage, taking a place behind their respective instruments. 

All Thranduil could do was hope that Bard and this little circus act were as horrible as he imagined that they’d be…

Or he would be getting in touch with the moving company first thing in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well then.
> 
> What do you guys think?
> 
> Pay me a visit on tumblr at aimabovethetarget if you'd like to say hi!


	4. Heart Of Glass (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Open your eyes and _look at me._ I want to see what they see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The usual, no beta and all. In this Chapter, the lyrics used are from "Devil's Plaything" by Danzig. I don't have any claim over them, nor will I ever. Enjoy!

The Band started by playing to the crowd to warm them up a little bit more, entertaining them by falling into their regular playful banter. 

“Ah, you’re a loud bunch, huh? It’s good-no, it’s really good. We _like_ that. Means we’re doin’ it right.”

“They don’t want the details of your sex life, Bowman. And don’t try to drag us into it.” Daniel called good naturedly from behind his Custom, Tama Starclassic Drum set. It was slightly elevated above the rest of his band on stage so that the crowd would be able to watch as he played. 

“I’m sure that they don’t mind very much. Isn’t that right, Boys and Girls?” Bard shifted forward onto one foot, tipping the microphone toward the crowd. 

Daniel rolled his eyes playfully when a majority of them shouted their affirmation, flipping Bard the bird when the man turned and opened his arms as if to say “see?” “They’ll say that to anything you ask. The perverts.”

__“And that’s why we put you back there, because we don’t want you up here killin’ the mood.” Ben quipped, teasing the strings of his Chrome finished Les Paul._ _

__“Piss off, you.”_ _

__“Be nice, Boys. Do it for the kids.” Bard joked with a wink. “Let's get this show on the road. Thanks for stayin’ up past your bedtimes so that you could come down here and take in a little of the Devil’s music. I think you know this one...don’t be afraid to help me out.”_ _

__The band was three songs into their set when Thranduil began to reconsider the outcome of the situation he was in. He was a wise businessman and tended to run a tight ship, covering every single one of his bases in advance. His confidence always spurred from the very fact that he always felt secure._ _

__He watched with rapt attention as Bard fell to his knees for the fourth time that night. It was a position he seemed to favor, one that held the significance of Bard succumbing to the screaming people in the crowd. For just a few hours, Bard was touchable. Attainable. He hunched over the mic with a hand clutched in his own hair, delivering his vocals with a passion that radiated onto the crowd that was shouting his lyrics back at him with extreme enthusiasm._ _

__Thranduil’s fingers twitched unconsciously at his sides, itching to come into contact with flushed, tanned flesh._ _

__No, he was certainly not secure._ _

__The cretins throwing themselves about on that stage actually had talent. Actual, damn near perfected talent that they undoubtedly honed together over the years. Daniel’s high energy drumming was well orchestrated, Ben hammered out complex riffs that Garret supported with rhythmic, reverberating bass lines._ _

__All brought together by Bard’s powerful, versatile vocal range that commanded the attention of the entire room._ _

__Thranduil would rather throw in the towel right then than admit that Bard’s performance evoked feelings inside of him that would be the root of the pending bout insomnia he knew he was to face tonight._ _

__Bard, now back on his feet (Thranduil sent a silent “Thank You” to the gods for that), started the next song slow, clutching the microphone stand with one hand and the mic itself with the other. His lips gently brushed against the top of the windscreen as he delivered the beginning verse in a deep, rich croon._ _

___“Love is a flame_  
_A devil's thing_  
_A violent storm_  
_About to be born_  
_Just look in these eyes_  
_See all the lies_  
_All the things you see  
You cannot deny.”_

__Bard was actually forcing the energy in the room back to minimum. He had his audience clinging to his every last word, swaying back and forth with him as if they had been possessed. Their voices were a mass murmur as they echoed him._ _

___“And this flame_  
_That burns inside_  
_If you get too close_  
_Burn you alive_  
_Just look in these eyes_  
_And see if they lie_  
_All these words I speak_  
_You cannot deny”_

__The music kicked in again and the audience began to jump, bodies jerking to the rhythm of the melody. Bard’s body movements were fluid and filled with purpose as he stalked about the stage, each relating to his lyrics in some way in order to craft the perfect visual. His voice rose and fell, arcing into a harmonic growl before descending into a soulful purr._ _

___“Got a light_  
_Shines on me_  
_Gentle light_  
_It will never be_  
_See the flame_  
_In my hand_  
_If you're playing with fire_  
_You're playing in Hell”_

__Bard suddenly whipped around, fixing a shocked looking Thranduil with a smoldering gaze as he belted out the chorus._ _

___“Devil's plaything_  
_In my hands_  
_If you don't want pain_  
_You don't understand_  
_Got a light_  
_Shines on me_  
_If you wanna touch flames_  
_Come unto me”_

__Thranduil stiffened. The bastard was winning._ _

__And he knew it.  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ _ _

__Bard couldn’t manage to keep the grin off of his face as he strutted over to the bar where Thranduil sat with one long leg crossed over the other, wearing his usual indifferent expression. This time however, there was a hint of a scowl forming in the corners of his lips._ _

__Someone wasn’t used to admitting defeat, but that was just too damned bad._ _

__Bard was known for being one of the worst winners on the planet. In his mind he earned this victory, and he was going to enjoy the Hell out of it at the expense of his prissy little companion. Smirking to himself, he thought about how much of a dramatic explosion would occur if he suggested to the other man that they be flatmates as a condition of his win. That would be something he’d want caught on videotape for his own personal enjoyment for sure._ _

__He moved through the crowd, pausing once in awhile to sign a stray autograph or have a brief chat about his work with an admirer. Once his band mates posed a welcome distraction by hopping off of the stage and integrating themselves into the madness, he managed to escape the pit of overzealous fans, making a beeline for the bar._ _

__Thranduil was already nursing a glass of wine when he pulled up a bar stool and plopped down next to him._ _

__“That was quite the act.”_ _

__Bard tapped the top of the bar, opening his hand to receive a shot of Whiskey that the Bartender slid to him. He nodded in thanks, tipping the small glass up to his lips. “I’ll take that as a congrats.”_ _

__“You should, as that is all that you will be receiving.” Thranduil replied curtly._ _

__“It’s all I’d expect from a person who’s used to getting what they want, when they want it.” Bard chuckled when the scowl deepened. “Just when I was beginning to worry that you only had one expression. Enjoying yourself?”_ _

__“Unlike some, I am an honest man. I merely remain here to pay the debt I owe you. I’d like nothing more to leave this…” Thranduil looked up at the small firefly lights that were strung up on the ceilings with a small wrinkle of his nose. “Poor excuse for an establishment and return home where I might attempt to get some rest.”_ _

__Bard shrugged. “I know some better places. All you’d have to do is ask.”_ _

__“You must excuse me if I find that hard to believe, Mr. Bowman.” Thranduil said with a sniff, lifting a glass to take another sip._ _

__“Anyone ever tell you not to judge a book by its cover?”_ _

__“I haven’t. Said book is spread out in plain sight for all to see.”_ _

__“Not all of us feel the need to keep everything obsessively under wraps, y’know.” Bard pulled a hair band from his wrist and reached back, containing his hair in a bun. “It’s called not giving a fuck. Try it sometime, will you?”_ _

__“It is how I have managed to keep myself from becoming the center of attention press wise. Perhaps it is you, who should rethink your methods.”_ _

__He should’ve been a fucking lawyer or something with that mouth._ _

__“Someone’s been doing their research.”_ _

__Another sniff. “You are not of enough interest. Try and remember that your face is plastered across someone’s magazine or newspaper every other day.”_ _

__“You haven’t had nearly enough drinks if you’re still so pissy.” Bard signaled for the barkeep, and another glass of wine was placed in front of Thranduil._ _

__“I will need another if I am to sit here and endure such unintelligent conversation.”_ _

__“I love it when you talk dirty.”_ _

__“Ugh.”_ _

__Bard took another shot as a reward for successfully putting Thranduil on his ass again._ _

__“Alright, then.” He shifted toward Thranduil. “For the sake of getting you to loosen up. Let's talk.”_ _

__“I believe that is what we are doing.”_ _

__“No, Thran.” Bard shook his head. “Really talk, with one of that deflecting bullshit on your part. I won, and all I want is to get to know you.”_ _

__Thranduil expression shifted to one of skepticism. Bard could tell that he wasn’t accustomed to being around people that were so free and open, so he opted to be patient. He was one of those people that others were either afraid of, or put off by. The kind of person that people gathered in the break room to bitch about. No one wanted to get to know someone who looked down their nose at them._ _

__But he couldn’t be like that all the time, right? He didn’t seem miserable like the others. He was just...hardened. Bard got that because he was like that to a certain extent._ _

__“What is it that you are seeking to find out?” Thranduil asked carefully, his words coming out as calculated and unsure._ _

__Bard waved a hand. “Favorite color?”_ _

__“Silver.”_ _

__“Why?”_ _

__“It reminds me of the Stars.”_ _

__“Stars?”_ _

__Thranduil glanced at him sidelong. “Yes. Is that somehow amusing to you?”_ _

__“No, not at all. You’re into…” Bard thought for a moment. “Astronomy?”_ _

__That earned him a faint smile. “Somewhat, yes.”_ _

__“S’fitting.”_ _

__“Oh?” Thranduil looked up, resting an elbow atop the bar as he swirled about the wine in his glass. “How so?”_ _

__“You’re...you’re like this person, that doesn’t belong here.”_ _

__“Are you referring to me as an Alien, Bard?” Thranduil teased with his head dipped slightly, demure smile hidden by his wine glass._ _

__Bard’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment, and he found himself stumbling to get his response out. That annoying grin of Thranduil’s wasn’t helping his case one bit. “No, like some sort of mystical being. I dunno...an Elf, maybe.”_ _

__“An Elf.”_ _

__“Yeah, an Elf. And you live in this big fucking _castle,_ with all of your Elf servants. Oh!” Bard held up a finger as if he had just figured out the answers to all of the World’s Conundrums. “And you have this...really big, bloody _Moose_ that you ride into battle-what?”_ _

Thranduil was full on laughing at him, a melodic and bright sound that was foreign to Bard’s ears.  
“It is nothing,” Thranduil covered his reddening face with a hand, struggling to get a handle on himself. “You are just…absurdly creative. 

__“Artistic license and all that.” Now they were getting somewhere. “Alright. What do you like doing on an incredibly boring rainy day?” Bard quizzed, leaning forward in interest._ _

__Thranduil smirked. “On that exact kind of day?”_ _

__“Yeah, on that kind of day exactly.”_ _

__“If I did not have any work to get done, I would prefer to read. Or perhaps I’d venture out.” Thranduil shrugged. “I’d spend the day at the museum.”_ _

__“And which one would you go to?”_ _

__“I enjoy those that make all kinds of History their focal points, but I also frequent art museums.”_ _

__They lost count of the hours as the night wore on, conversations shifting endlessly as they explored one another through hilarious recounts of Thranduil's Uni experience and Bard’s tour stories, the exchanging of the locations of their favorite places to eat, and heated debates on topics that ranged from their shared belief of Existentialism to where one could attain the best cup of Coffee._ _

__Bard even managed to delight Thranduil with his extensive knowledge of Classical composers, finding that in turn, Thranduil could name quite few Heavy Metal albums that he found enjoyable._ _

__Bard offered to burn a few CD’s for him with some songs he thought he’d like. Thranduil told him that he would in fact, appreciate that, and invited him to attend the Opera with him the next time he obtained tickets._ _

__Once the Venue closed around 3 am forcing them to call it a night, they continued their conversation on the way Home until they seemed to run of things to say. They then hovered close to one another, shoulders brushing as they strolled down the blocks in a comfortable and companionable silence._ _

__“My legs are killing me,” Bard complained when they finally reached Home. “I haven’t walked that much in ages.”_ _

__Thranduil nodded in agreement, wincing when he began to feel the aftereffects of their little journey in the form of sore hamstrings. A nice hot shower would do well to aid that. “I seemed to have forgotten how old I truly am, but it was not at all unenjoyable. I almost forgot what our neighborhood truly looked like. I never get the chance to explore it due to the fact that I do not tend to leave my apartment unless I am called overseas or down to the office.”_ _

__“All work and no play makes Thran a dull boy.”  
__

__“Incredibly so.”__

__“You need to ditch the suits and get out more.”_ _

__“I will make it a priority.”_ _

You had better.” Bard threatened playfully, gently shoving the other’s shoulder. “Don’t make me have to come down there and _drag_ you out of that damned hole.” 

“And what if,” Thranduil tilted his head, closing the space between them with a few steps. “You somehow managed to get dragged in? What would you do then, Bowman?” 

Bard cleared his throat, eyes flitting down to Thranduil’s lips and then back up to those eyes that were pinning him with purpose. “I guess I’d just...have to fight my way out?” He let out a gasp of surprise when he was yanked forward by the lapels of his worn leather jacket. His hands automatically moved to grasp Thranduil’s slight hips. 

“Would you really? _Fight?_ ” Thranduil’s voice dropped to a whisper, resting one hand on Bard’s shoulder as the other circled around to grasp the back of his neck. 

“I…” Bard’s back hit the brick surface of their building and his words were instantly caught in his throat, grip becoming almost vice like when Thranduil moved up against him, pressing their foreheads together. 

“I _asked_ you a question,” Thranduil hissed against his lips. His fingers curled in Bard’s hair, using the leverage to work his head back so that he could properly bury his face into the crook of his neck. “I’d like an answer sometime tonight, Bard." 

Bard’s eyes fluttered shut. “No.” He breathed, letting out a quiet groan at the sensation of his pulse points being lightly teased with quick swipes of a tongue and small tugs of teeth. 

“No?” Thranduil pressed his hips into Bard’s for emphasis, moving against him in a slow circle, slightly increasing the pressure after each rotation. His movements were the perfect balance between relentlessness and sensuality, working to drive Bard into submission while extending an invitation to fight back if he dared to. 

_“No.”_ Bard ground out, bunching the silky material of Thranduil’s shirt in his fists, clinging to him like his life depended on it. 

“Right here, against this building for all to see…for your audience.” Thranduil’s hands were on the move again, inching downward as they traced the curve of his spine, dipping into the small of his back. 

_“Yes.”_

"For all of your fans." 

"Yes."

“Open your eyes and _look at me._ I want to see what they see.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things:
> 
> This story now has a new title, so no worries. 
> 
> The "scene" was absolutely meant to end that way. Everything will be fully explained in the next chapter. I personally believe that the implication of Bard and Thranduil doing what they did adds much more to this story than having them go all the way, right there and then. It leaves more than enough to the imagination. 
> 
> Thranduil trapping Bard the way he did represents him taking the freedom that Bard offered him, finally coming out of that stiff and cold state. Bard makes him feel incredibly alive. These feelings are not at all sudden. Thranduil felt of course, but saw fit to repress them rather than act. Bard is slowly destroying his front. 
> 
> Would you like to take a guess as to what feeling Thranduil was looking to emulate? ;) 
> 
> I am currently working on a playlist for this fic that will be posted here soon.  
> We are down to our final chapters! Thank you darlings for sticking with it~


	5. Skeletons.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Love? It just couldn’t be. It was much too early for such a thing to have developed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a sweet little update for you all. Happy Holidays! The credit for the title of this Chapter goes to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, "Skeletons." This Chapter is a cue up for what is to come, really. A breather. It also contains a bit of information on Thranduil's career.

Thranduil awoke on Sunday morning with the absolute intention of beginning the last phase of preparation for the upcoming Entrepreneur Expo in New York. He would be flying out with the members of his Senior Management Team on Monday night so that they had the time to have a brief meeting Tuesday morning, before the Event that took place in the Afternoon. They were some of the best and brightest, and having already secured reliable funders along with strong relationships with Private Organizations in countless cities, he was confident that it would go off without a hitch.

They were going to crush any competition that came their way, take their projects apart piece by piece until there was nothing significant enough to offer. 

Being COO of Strategy and Operations meant having extensive knowledge of programs, working closely with the CFO to develop and maintain their budget and ensuring that his team was well prepared and fully capable of the jobs assigned to them. The CEO of his company charged him with this responsibility because of his abilities. He knew how to expand their revenue streams by weeding out the out the weak, how to recruit those that were not only brilliant, but innovative. 

Thranduil could create the illusion that a jalapeno pepper was a fine chocolate that would melt as soon as it touched one’s tongue. He knew how to make things happen when others believed that he could not.

That was before he realized there was something physically weighing him down. Bard.

He was dead to the world, sidled up beside Thranduil with his head resting on his chest, and a possessive arm thrown over his torso. Judging by the faint dark circles below his eyes, the night they spent together must have been the first of few that he was able to get a proper night’s rest.

Thranduil’s fingers tentatively curled inward before retracting, beginning a journey up Bard’s stubbled cheeks and over his parted lips. Why did the touch feel so intrusively intimate when he had been inside of Bard not eight hours back? Perhaps it was him. The tribulations of work weighed heavily on him, not allowing any time for recreational fraternization. Which was convenient. Following his wife’s passing eight years back he actively avoided relationships altogether. His physical needs were taken care of through an almost business like arrangement he maintained with a close friend. 

This...this was different. Something inside of him actually ached at the thought of Bard being anywhere else but by his side. He gave himself to him the night before because all of his inhibitions were lost. Thranduil was over analytic by nature. When his brain shut down his heart had free reign. And apparently it decided that it was time for him to stop sabotaging his own love life. Thranduil frowned, looking down at Bard.

Love? It just couldn’t be. It was much too early for such a thing to have developed, and so very inconvenient at that-

“Morning, Princess.”

“Good Morning.” Thranduil couldn’t help but smile at his unnecessarily loud way of yawning. 

Bard let out a lazy groan, unsuccessfully trying to pull him impossibly closer. With a playful roll of his eyes, Thranduil shifted a little so that he could properly drape half of his body across him. 

“You sleep alright?” 

“Of course...I fully expect that you did as well.” Thranduil toyed with the chain of Bard’s necklace, flipping over the attached _Ddraig Goch_ pendant. “You seem to have designated me as your personal pillow.”

“Mmhm,” Bard pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “And a damned good one at that. Slept like a baby.”

“Glad to hear that I’ve been of assistance.” 

“Should be happy to be pulling your weight after I _assisted_ you so well last night-” 

“Quiet!” Bard chuckled, dodging the pillow that Thranduil chucked at him before gathering the struggling man into his arms. 

They wrestled for a bit, rolling about the messy bed in a tangle of limbs and sheets giggling like children. Thranduil finally managed to using his weight to immobilize Bard, sitting on top him with a triumphant smirk.

“Do you yield?”

Bard swatted his bottom smartly. “I don’t think I really care to do anything but.”

“Get out.”

“Make me.”

Thranduil huffed, pushing himself up and off of Bard with a groan. “As much as I’d like to remain splayed out in bed all day and engage in more of your antics, I’ve work to do.”

Bard lay on his side, propping up an arm so that he could rest his chin in his palm. “Back to the world of suits, vindictiveness, and manila folders for you, then?”

Thranduil slid out of the bed. “Apparently so.” He moved about the room, collecting a pair of black sweat pants from a dresser drawer to slip on. “And what of you, Bowman. Do you plan on having another one of your infamous parties tonight?”

“Why, are you hoping that I’ll say “yes” so that you can finally get me out of your bed?”

“Likewise, actually.” Thranduil picked up a brush and went to work on taming his mussed hair, not in any mood to go through the trouble of dealing with adding product and using a hair dryer. “I am hoping that you will say “no” so that you are able to remain there.”

“Work?”

“I do not leave until Monday night.” Thranduil fidgeted a bit, something Bard found uncharacteristic for a man who practically glided across the floor. “You are welcome to stay until then...if you would like.” 

“I would like.”

“Of course, I will not know what you would do to amuse yourself here, should you choose to stay. I am not as entertaining as those that you usually migrate to-”

“Thran.”

“-I prefer quiet most of the time and there is not much to do aside from read-” Thranduil was so caught up in the midst of his rambling that he did not realize that Bard was no longer in bed, and was now crossing the floor toward him with his silk bed sheet loosely wrapped around his waist.

“I’m staying.”

“-It was merely an idea, do not feel forced to follow through in order to spare my feelin-”

“Oh _shut up.”_ Thranduil jumped when he was pulled against warm flesh, arms encircling his waist. His eyes narrowed, head turning sharply.

“I beg your _pardon-”_ Bard whipped him around with short jerk of his arm, crushing his lips to his.

Only when Bard felt Thranduil go limp in his arms did he pull back, hands cupping his cheeks. “I said, I am staying.” He murmured.

Thranduil cleared his throat. “It has become quite clear.”

“Good. That mouth of yours is driving me insane.” Bard chuckled, swooping in to steal another kiss. “Come. Let’s get some coffee into you so that you can go and do responsible adult things. After I take a piss.”

“How lovely,” Thranduil replied dryly. “The bathroom is two doors down to the right. You may join me in the kitchen after you are done... _micturating.”_

“Aye, Love.” Bard gave him one final kiss before he released him and left the room, dragging the sheet with him.

“Wearing proper day attire! So that you may return my bed dressings to where they belong.” Thranduil called after the groggy looking Rockstar, receiving a muffled affirmative.

_Love._

Thranduil let out a soft laugh, covering his face with his hands. 

Perhaps in time, it could be.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“How do you manage to keep them alive?”

Thranduil looked up from his coffee to see Bard stroking the petals of the potted Gardenia plant that rested on his counter top beside his sink. “I have my Driver, Haldir oversee my apartment when I am absent. He tends to them as needed.”

“He must be here quite bit then, they’re all over the house. It’s like an indoor garden.”

“Do you like them?” Thranduil asked, carefully setting aside a full Mug before retrieving an empty one from the holder on the wall, filling it halfway to compliment Bard’s mix ins.

“Yeah,” Bard nodded. “The little Purple ones you have in your bathroom? I like those.”

“They are called Phalaenopsis Orchids,” Thranduil informed him, holding up a carton of Soy Milk for confirmation. Bard shrugged. “I treasure them dearly.”

“Maybe I’ll get you some to add to your collection.” Bard took small sip from the forest green ceramic mug that Thranduil placed before him.

“I did not take you for the type to-” Thranduil paused when he heard a faint ring coming from behind him. He let out a small groan. That just couldn’t be someone from the office, not on a damned Sunday. He cursed himself for forgetting to turn that wretched thing off again. “Give me one moment.” He went over to the table, snatching his cell phone off of the table. 

_‘Oropher’ (2)_

His hand shook as he unlocked the screen, tapping the Messaging short cut. 

_O: I will need to speak with you as soon as possible in regards to Legolas’ Academic future._  
_O: It is urgent._

“Tell them to fuck off.” Bard mumbled around the top of his mug.

“I...I..”Thranduil’s hand tightened around the phone. “Bard, I must make a quick call. If you are hungry you can find whatever suits you in the fridge. I will be with you shortly.”

Bard set his cup down, eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” Thranduil gave Bard a strained smile. “Everything is alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where things begin to get a bit complicated. There is a bit of a rough ride ahead. Does anyone have any thoughts on where this call will lead?
> 
> Bard's pendant is the "Ddraig Goch." In Welsh, it means "Red Dragon" and is actually just that. It is the national symbol of Wales.


	6. Bullet With Butterfly Wings.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miscommunication and stubbornness.
> 
> The credit for the title goes to The Smashing Pumpkins, "Bullet With Butterfly Wings."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays, darlings!

_“I was not expecting you to contact me so soon.”_

_“What’s happened to Legolas? Is he alright?”_

_“Good Morning to you as well. I am doing wonderfully, thank you for being concerned.”_

_“I am in no mood to be trifled with.”_

_“You will watch your tongue when you are speaking to me.”_

_“...I stand corrected.”_

_“Just as you should be. Now, Legolas is in perfect health. I contacted you on his behalf because he felt that it would not be wise to do it himself.”_

_“I have not spoken to him properly in months. When we do converse, he is very short with me and usually has other business to attend to.”_

_“He feels that he cannot get through to you.”_

_“Does he really believe such a thing, or has he been convinced?”_

_“Legolas seeks no quarrel with you. He only wishes to have your attention long enough to make his point.”_

_“He will have from me whatever it is that he desires. I would never deny him.”_

_“No. He will have from you whatever it is that You desire, Thranduil. That is why he is keen on making this decision.”_

_“What decision?”_

_“Legolas, and I of course, feel that it is high time that he claim control over his own life.”_

_“I have given him the option of doing just that long ago.”_

_“Perhaps, this is why your relationship is strained-”_

_“-I tire of this. What is it that Legolas struggles to tell me?”_

_“Thranduil.”_

_“You will tell me or I will contact him so that he can tell me himself.”_

_“He will not be attending University in London as previously planned.”_

_“That...that cannot be possible.”_

_“He wishes to go to Norway, instead. To the University of Oslo. They are offering him a full scholarship.”_

_“He and I spoke about this a mere month back. I have already spoken to his Financial advisor at LSE. The the remainder of the costs that his scholarship did not cover have been taken care of. I plan to have him flown out by the end of the Summer so that we will have the time to make last minute preparations before I see him off.”_

_“He has decided on a different route.”_

_“...I would hear it from his own lips.”_

_“He is in the middle of-”_

_“-Put my Son on the phone. Now.”  
_

_“ I helped him reconsider his decision to move to London with you. You do not have enough time to dedicate to him, Thranduil. You were never able to set aside your career to ensure his happiness. I refuse to see my kin suffer when I have the ability to prevent such a thing. He needs-”_

_“-You will refrain from telling me what My Son needs, Old Man! You are merely the one who presented himself as a false supporter of his efforts. You live to gain. You wanted a say in his future so that you could acquire a chance to correct the mistakes that you believe you made whilst raising me.”_

_“How dare-”_

_“-And you have the audacity, _the gall,_ to accuse me of being a failed parent! You reptilian, scheming Hypocrite!”_

_"Lle tela?"_

_"Never."_

_“I will not put him through this for the sake of your pride. You may wallow in the void of sadness caused by the death of your wife if it is what you wish, but I will not allow Legolas to submerge himself. Place aside your resentment for a moments time so that you can see the truth in my words. I am not trying to bring harm to you. I am trying to help your Son.”_

_“...You will not take him from me, Oropher.”_

_“It was not I that sent him away.”_

_“Tell Legolas that I shall see him this evening. See to it that he is at the Gare Du Nord station at approximately six forty seven PM. I will be leaving on the three thirty one train via Eurostar.”_

_“I would not advise-”_

_“I do not care what it is that you advise. Not anymore”_

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

Bard looked up at the clock. It had been about forty five minutes since Thranduil disappeared off to his room to make his call, insisting that everything was just peachy. Which was of course, absolute bullshit. Perhaps he would have been just a bit more convincing if it weren't for the blatant trembling of his hands and the sudden loss of color in his face.

Whatever it was, Bard would be happy to listen if he felt like talking. If not they could have breakfast in complete silence. It didn't matter. As long as it would put that stupid little smirk back on his face. Bard chuckled, looking down at the fruit plate that he spent the last ten minutes attempting to arrange using a multitude of fruit that he dug out of Thranduil's fridge. Not the prettiest, but it was all going to the same place anyhow.

And there would be designated points for thoughtfulness, right?

The whole thing very nearly ended up a mess on the kitchen floor when a loud "thunk" sounded throughout the kitchen, starting Bard half to death. He drew in a heavy inhale, spinning to see Thranduil standing by the kitchen archway...fully dressed with a rather large suitcase at his feet. Bard couldn't help but realize that there was something different about him...that coldness, the stiff posture. It was back.

Bard popped a grape into his mouth "Will you be riding into Battle today, Your Highness?"

Thranduil smiled thinly, circling around the kitchen table here an excess of his unreviewed documents papers lay. "In a manner of speaking."

"Well then, have a bite before you go submerging yourself in stiff's work. It'll do no good to have you blowing away." Bard joked. "My Mam used to piss on and on about that, when I would go on three day benders-"

"-I am afraid that I do not have the time." Thranduil interjected sharply. "I've a train to catch very soon. I will find something suitable once I am settled." 

"Oh...alright, then. I suppose that I'll see you when you return." Bard leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter. "You can tell me all about how ridiculously boring your little meetings were." 

Thranduil's eyebrows raised and he turned to Bard. "I do not think that will be the case."

"What are you..." The smile on Bard's face slowly began to dissolve as the gears of his mind began to turn, putting two and two together. He couldn't possibly mean...not after all of the things they...Bard's head dropped between his arms and he shook his head, letting out a rueful laugh. "You coward. You bloody _coward-"_

Thranduil raised a hand, effectively silencing Bard's oncoming tirade."There is no need to make this any more difficult than it has to be."

_"You're running."_

"You cannot possibly tell me that this is what you want. _This?_ To jeopardize your freedom, your ability to do as you wish without the bonds of monogamy restricting you." Thranduil collected his documents one by one from their piles on the kitchen table, giving each a once over before filing them away neatly in their color coded tab folders.

"You don't get to question what I want, Thran." Bard insisted, setting his cup of coffee down on the table. "So what now? You're gonna run because you're too scared to face what you felt last night?"

"Your fans may believe that the world revolves around you, but I do not."

"Then _what?_ Tell me what the fuck I did so I can fix it-"

"You cannot." Thranduil scoffed. "I suppose you think that you and I will play House, now? I will watch you in the midst of sleep and muse about how lucky I am, correct? And in the mornings, you will rise before me to put on a pot of coffee that we will share before we both go off to our respective jobs?"

Bard felt his stomach turn as the realization dawned on him. Thran was having second thoughts because he was afraid. He thought that Bard considered him a conquest-and he couldn't have been more wrong. 

It was true, he didn't have the best romantic track record. Hell, he wouldn't trust himself. But what he also knew, was that he hadn't been so happy to wake up next to another in years.

"You've gotta stop trying to make this sound like it's some sort of...mistake. If we want it to work, we'll make it work. Existentialism, remember? It's all up to us."

"Existentialism also promotes realism, Bard." Thranduil replied, refusing to look up from the table. "Realistically, there is no 'Us.'"

"There's nothing more real than realizing that you and someone else have a connection-"

"-Knowing that you cannot possibly pursue something that will end in turmoil is being self aware. It is coming to terms with life, real life-"

"-And choosing to put that aside, to stop depending on things that went on in the past to determine a possible future is also being realistic. It's being in control of your own life."

Silence descended upon both men, each refusing to relent. From where he stood in the middle of the kitchen, Bard could see that his words penetrated Thranduil deeper than he expected. 

Thranduil's mask of indifference cracked to reveal a slew of different and conflicting emotions. The frustration of knowing that Bard was able to make him consider reason, the uncertainty of the entire situation-was he being lied to? was it all a farce? Most prominent however, was the pain in his eyes. 

He was breaking his own heart to protect it from Bard, who he believed could potentially do the same. 

"It is unrealistic." Thranduil's voice wavered slightly, as if he didn't truly believe himself. "Accumulated sexual frustration on my part and...some sort of infatuation on yours. Go back to your life, Mr. Bowman. So that I can resume mine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You must forgive me for this. It will get better with time, I assure you. Many of you may not understand Thranduil's reasons for doing what he did. I would like it if you attempted to. Tell me what you believe!


	7. 12 Black Rainbows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _If Thranduil wanted to run, he'd chase. He'd chase him all around the damned world if he had to just for the answer he needed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well Hello there! I simply must thank every single one of you for sticking with me through this little project of mine. It's officially reached 500+ views! <3 You are all so very wonderful.
> 
> As usual, this is not beta'd and will be corrected accordingly. The title credit for this chapter goes to Type O Negative's, "12 Black Rainbows."
> 
> Aaaand before we begin, I'd like to warn you that this the chapter where the drug use comes into play. 
> 
> Enjoy!

For about half the day Bard sat by the elevator on the second floor, awaiting the the elusive Entrepenur's return. Where in the hell was he anyway? He hadn't heard from him for an entire week and a half following the morning that he basically threw him out on his ass with little to no explanation. Bard knew that he fucking felt what he had, that jolt of electricity signalling the special bond that was growing between them. It all happened for a reason. He was his person, the person. 

Bard couldn’t let that escape him. 

Bard battled with himself internally for the whole of that morning after he returned home, pacing the floors of his apartment with a bottle of Jack in hand as he contemplated everything that occurred over the past couple of months between them. Just when did he become some needy, whiny little bitch?

It must have been when he turned into a wreck over the realization that he couldn't get a hold of him. He sent several texts, three emails, and tried his phone over and over hoping to hear that voice cut through the line at some point. He got desperate after being sent to voicemail for the thousandth time, and chased down Thranduil's driver to see if he had any idea of where he disappeared off to. That was when he found out that he was off in Paris for a so called "sabbatical."

He needed to see Thranduil. He needed to confirm that all of his feelings were real. He needed to feel those lips on his again to seal the deal. He wanted it all. The label, the responsibility. The commitment. If Thranduil wanted to run, he'd chase. He'd chase him all around the damned world if he had to just for the answer he needed. 

Bard perked up when the elevator dinged, followed by the familiar click of overly expensive shoes began to echo through the hallway. He looked up to see Thranduil’s retreating back and hope surged inside of him. Maybe he’d be getting those answers sooner than he thought. 

“Hey!” Bard stood, dusting his pants off. He broke into a small jog catch up to Thranduil, who didn’t show any signs of slowing for him. The little glimpse he caught of him was enough to determine that there was something both physically and emotionally different about him. “Hey. Give it a rest, will you?”

“Leave me be, Bard. I am tired and I only wish to rest.”

“What, from your flight?” Thranduil stopped in his tracks and turned to acknowledge him with a sneer on his lips, travel bag falling to the floor. “It must have sucked if you had shit faced to enjoy it.”

His precious hair looked all messy and pulled up in a bun. He was wearing dark sunglasses in an attempt to avoid any further wrath of his obvious hang over. The man smelled he had taken a swim in a wine cellar.

“You don’t know when to leave things as they are, I see. I go where I wish, when I wish. _Goodnight.”_ Thranduil stooped to retrieve his bag, but Bard was much too quick. He let out a frustrated growl when the Rockstar grabbed the handle and snatched it before he could. 

“Why did you run Thran, huh?” Bard yanked it back when Thranduil moved to take it from him. “Scared?”

“You are behaving like a love stricken child!”

“Are you scared of what I made you feel that night?” Thranduil eventually wrestled the bag from his hands, pushing him aside as he continued to his Flat.

“ If you believe that anything ever existed between the two of us, then you truly are a fool.” Thranduil called over his shoulder. 

“Princess-” Bard gently grasped his wrist to stop him, wishing that he would just give him a chance to figure out what was going on in his mind. He needed him to listen.

Thranduil whipped around, slamming a hand into Bard’s chest that sent him stumbling backward. “I _tire_ of that ridiculous nickname!” He snatched his glasses off and sure enough, his eyes were red rimmed. Blood shot. “I am not in the mood to entertain today, Bowman, so I suggest you subject someone else to to your inane ramblings.”

“Nah, you’ll do.” Bard took a step forward. “I’m not too fond of change.”

“That is just too bad, isn’t it?” Thranduil hissed, taking a defensive step back each time Bard took one toward him. “I am warning you. Leave. Me. Be.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

“It is none of your concern.”

Bard shrugged, plopping down on the carpet. “That’s alright. I’ve got all day.”

When Thranduil attempted to get past him, Bard created a barrier with his legs by pressing his feet into the wall across from him. After about five minutes of failed attempts and hurled insults in some language Bard couldn’t make out, Thranduil finally broke. 

“Remove yourself, Bowman! Before I do it _myself!”_ Thranduil shouted, causing a few of the neighbors to crack open their doors curiously. 

“Oh, fuck _off_ you nosy bastards!” The doors promptly shut and Bard turned back to Thranduil, who was now visibly drained. “That morning, when you threw me out. You told me that your world didn’t revolve around me. Tell me, then. What does it revolve around?”

“...I am not proud of the way that I behaved toward you that morning.” Thranduil’s expression softened. “There were a mass of occurrences. I was caught in the crossfire and my very first thought was to find some sort of shelter from it all.”

“I know.” Bard nodded in understanding and reached up to grasp Thranduil’s forearm, giving it a gentle tug. “C’mon. Grab a seat and let’s sort this out.” 

“On the floor?” Thranduil asked, looking as if Bard had just offended his entire family lineage.

“Don’t worry, the Pathogens aren’t gonna get ya. I promise.”

With an eyeroll that Bard swore would qualify Thranduil for his very own Golden Globe award, the latter reached down to brush away whatever imaginary “dust” there might have been on the carpet, before taking a seat beside him. 

Bard watched calculatingly as he pulled a small bottle of hand sanitizer from his pocket, squeezing it out in exactly four neat and small globs into his palm. After giving his hands a few good rubs, he placed them upward in his lap.

 _‘OCD.’_ Bard thought. That explained a lot of things.

“Alright.” Thranduil relented, smiling tightly. “We will talk.”

“I won’t lie and say that I wasn’t pissed about it. I went Home, got trashed, and called you every fucking name in the book thinking that you blew me off. That you used me.”

“I did not-”

Bard laced his fingers with Thranduil’s, feeling them twitch as soon as their skin touched. “Come off the defensive. I’m not attacking.”

Thranduil nodded mutely. 

“I figured that out later on, when I really sat down and put this whole ‘us’ thing aside for a moment,” Bard continued. “The way your moods shifted? It didn’t add up. I was selfish not to realize something else was happening, Thran. That’s my biggest problem in general, selfishness.” 

The twitching ceased. “You are not selfish.” Thranduil pulled his hand into his lap, tracing small circles over his knuckles with his thumb. “You are…”

“Reluctant?”

“Unprepared. You cannot possibly make a deduction if you do not have the experience necessary to do so.” Thranduil reasoned. “Much like…Myself. Except, it seems that I have developed a fear of the unknown due to my lack of experience.”

Bard rested his back against the wall, shifting closer. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“That is easy to say when you do not know the story.”

“Then tell me.”

Thranduil’s eyes fixed on him, unblinking. Bard gave him an encouraging nod. 

“It is my Son. When I left, it wasn’t to separate myself from you. I went to Paris to meet with him, to discuss his intention of attending College in Norway. Putting some space between you and I was a plus, so to speak.”

Now, that was new. Thranduil looked no where near old enough to have a kid headed to College. Bard didn’t remember seeing one around...but now that he thought of it, there were some mumbles about it in the lobby. Something about the wife dying, Thranduil’s arguments with his son. All sorts of bullshit, really. Things tended to get around when you were surrounded by people who lived and breathed others lives.

“Well, isn’t that a good thing that…” Bard trailed off, glancing over at Thranduil expectantly. 

“Legolas.” There was a temporary sparkle in Thranduil’s eyes when the name passed his lips, one that told Bard just how much his Son meant to him. It was only a name, four little letters that he seemed so proud to have supplied him with. However, a challenge also lay in those same eyes.

A Father’s protective instinct. Bard knew the feeling all too well.

“That Legolas, decided to go straight?” Bard offered, reaching up to wipe the tears from Thranduil’s cheeks with his thumb. He could tell that Thran wasn’t too happy about his hands coming into contact with his face at all, but was was much too drained to do anything more than scowl at him. “What’s he studying? Business like his Da?”

Thranduil paused as if he were contemplating something, wrapping his arms around himself. Bard was taken aback by how damn vulnerable he looked. That it was even possible. Hell, he was almost sure that he’d shatter into tiny pieces if anyone so much as touched him. 

“He earned an Archery scholarship. I am not sure what he plans to major in, but he will excel regardless.” Thranduil answered finally.

“Well, he’s got a plan, which is usually what Parents aim for when raising a kid. What exactly is it about this that’s making you...” Bard waved his hands around a little, not wanting to use the wrong word and have his head bitten off.

“That was not his original plan. He was to return Home to attend my Alma Mater.” 

“Kids that are his age don’t usually find the idea of hanging around their Parents all that appealing. They expect the freedom they’ve been promised for all of that hard work, Uni is their first taste of that.” Bard recalled the way his Parents reacted when he came home after graduation and told them outright that he was ditching the idea of higher education for the pursual of his Music Career. The idea of College was like a straight lit path whilst the dream filled spiral staircase led into complete darkness. Chaos.

Bard knew what it was like to crave the freedom at any costs. Even if it meant struggling to obtain them, every little thing earned through hard work was yours. There was nothing quite like it.

“I do not deny him him of his freedom, Bard. This is the point I have been trying to stress.” Thranduil huffed, shoving the hair that had fallen into his face back in frustration. “I only wish for him to be within reach. I wish to repair the failed relationship that we have and I cannot do that if he is not near.”

“Well maybe,” Bard gave Thranduil’s hand yet another squeeze. “He feels that going to College in London would kind of dilute the experience. That you’re too close for him to really claim his independence.” 

“ Thranduil’s shoulders fell, lips parted in what Bard believed to be complete and utter defeat. “How would I do it?” His eyes widened, pleading. “ _How_ do I get him back?”

“If you really want to prove to him that you are supporting his dreams, that you’re there, let him go. Give him this,” Bard advised. “He’ll realize that you’re not pushing anymore and he’ll feel free to come to you.”

“Even if…” Thranduil paused, eyebrows furrowing in thought. “Even if there is someone that may prevent that in His way?”

Bard snorted. “Look, if Leggy loves you the way I know He does? No one has the power to do that.”

Thranduil’s head shot up. “What did you just call him?” Thranduil’s taken aback expression immediately had Bard scrambling to back track. 

“I didn’t mean-”

“- _please.”_ Thranduil’s voice dropped to a whisper. 

“...Leggy?” And at that moment, when Thranduil’s hands flew up to tenderly cup his face, Bard could have sprinted up and down the hallway shouting his happiness at the top of his lungs.

“Bard.” Thranduil leant in, lips ghosting over his. “You have my absolute thanks. I’ll not forget this.”

Bard shrugged. “You don’t owe me anything…” He stroked the backs of his fingertips over Thranduil’s pale, smooth cheek. “I just want you to stick around. Okay?”

“I will not abuse your trust.” Thranduil applied the smallest bit of pressure against his lips, sealing his promise with a gentle, sweet kiss that had Bard’s heart beating wildly in his chest and his stomach in shambles. 

When Thranduil finally pulled back Bard actually dropped to his hands and knees to close the space created between them, causing the other to tap his lips with his index finger playfully. Bard rolled his eyes and fell back against the wall. “Damn tease.”

“Whilst I am “around” I might as well teach you to be patient.” 

“I’m countin’ on it, Princess.” 

“You haven't a choice."

"I can roll with the whole "against my will" thing if it's all fun and games, y'know." 

Bard grinned madly, dodging a shove from Thranduil by scrambling to his feet.

"Disgusting."

"You love it."

"As eventful as this was...I am undoubtedly raining on your usual parade,” Thranduil pushed himself up off the floor with a weak smile. “Go and entertain your troupe. I will go and get some rest. If you would like, you can join me for a proper cup of coffee in the morrow."

“I know you will. I’m gonna make sure that you do.” 

Thranduil frowned. “I do not mind your company, But I will not have you policing me.”

“S’a good thing that I’m not a pig, then.” Bard looped an arm through Thranduil’s, edging him forward in the direction of the elevator. “C’mon. Let's get you to bed, yeah?”  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
“Are you _insane?”_

“You really were sheltered, weren’t you?”

“Take it and get out of my home!”

“You’re over reacting. It’s just fuckin’ Grass, Thran. Thought you were into plant food.”

Thranduil looked at him as if he had just tossed his first born into a volcano. “It is _just_ an illegal substance in my home.”

Bard grinned, lifting the immaculately wrapped Joint to his lips to give it an extra lick, tightening the wrap paper. “We can get rid of it if you would just relax and let me light it.” 

“Feel free to do so, as soon as you’ve made your way out.” 

He pulled the cobalt blue lighter from his pocket and placed the joint in his mouth, flicking the lighter a few times to get it going. He submerged the tip of the joint in flame for a moment, taking a few experimental pulls to properly ignite it. 

When Bard was satisfied, he tossed the lighter and let the smoke trickle out of his corners mouth. “It’s called ‘Quantum.’ Good shit a mate from Portland brought over for me.” He coughed a little before he took his next pull. It’ll give you the gigs for a little bit, then you’ll probably end up passin’ right out. You’ll sleep like a baby.” 

Thranduil remained rooted to the spot with his eyes fixed on Bard as he smoked, not exactly sure why he was so fascinated by the perfect smoke rings he was able to create. At one point he blew out a thick puff of smoke, tilted his head upward and inhaled it again to create a jellyfish like effect. 

“Why do your…” Thranduil's nose twitched. “ _Drugs_ smell like that?” 

Bard squinted through the smoke at Thranduil, taking another hit. The sclera of his eyes were starting to redden already. “What? Oh, you mean why does it smell sweet?” Thranduil nodded, not trying one bit to mask his expression of distaste. “It’s a sweet strain. Wanna try it?” 

Thranduil took a tentative step toward Bard. He wasn’t as uptight as some thought-marijuana was a big part of his life when he attended Uni, to the point where his Ada threatened to have him removed and placed into rehabilitation if he continued to use. 

Bard gently nudged Thranduil backward until he was effectively trapped between his body and the wall. “Thran...let go for once.” 

And he did need to wind down...from what he remembered, after smoking he’d fall into quite the deep sleep. That was just what he needed. 

He plucked the joint from Bard’s outstretched hand and slid it into the corner of his mouth, steadying it with his forefinger and thumb as he took a deep drag. As he exhaled the smoke out of one corner of his mouth, he took another full hit and winked at Bard before passing the it back to him. 

“I think I’ll deem you my new smoking partner after that one,” Bard nodded appreciatively, taking it back. “I don’t ever think I’ve seen it done.” 

“I excel at everything I do, Bard.” 

“Of course you do, Love. Of course you do.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahem. How was that for a treat? ;)


End file.
